


Stress Relief

by skywalkersamidala



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Humor, M/M, One Shot, Roommates, Sexuality Crisis, and they were quarantined (oh my god they were quarantined), lorenzo is at Full Disaster Bi levels bless him, no actual sex scenes but too much Discussion of sex for a T rating i thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26919607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkersamidala/pseuds/skywalkersamidala
Summary: Lorenzo is totally straight, but when his sister’s boyfriend’s brother gets cheated on, he decides that helping him get revenge by sleeping with him is just the friendly thing to do. And so what if he then suggests that they continue the arrangement for some much-needed stress relief? They’re stuck in an apartment together during a nationwide lockdown, it’s not like Lorenzo has any other hookup options right now.Francesco knows that all of this is a fantastically bad idea, but Lorenzo is hot and Francesco is only human.
Relationships: Lorenzo "Il Magnifico" de' Medici/Francesco de' Pazzi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 75





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I had to end up doing an “oh my god they were quarantined” scenario for them at some point lmao this is inspired by a screenshot of some r/relationship_advice post I saw floating around several months ago that I thought would work fantastically for these clowns :’) Enjoy!

Being quarantined with his sister, his sister’s boyfriend, and his sister’s boyfriend’s brother wasn’t exactly how Lorenzo had been expecting to spend his first months in two years as a single man.

The breakup was precisely how he ended up stuck in their apartment: Clarice had kept theirs after they ended things, so Lorenzo had planned to crash at Bianca’s for at most a few weeks while he looked for a new place. The only other options had been his mother’s house—too long a commute to the Medici bank—and Giuliano’s apartment—shared with roommates who were _much_ noisier and messier than the Pazzi brothers.

Though if Lorenzo had known the nationwide lockdown would be announced within a week of his arrival at his new living situation, he would’ve picked differently. Definitely not Giuliano’s place (Lorenzo couldn’t imagine _anything_ worse than being stuck in that glorified frathouse for however long this was going to last), but his mother’s house looked more and more appealing by the day. A big old palazzo outside the city—big enough that he and Lucrezia could’ve had plenty of space from each other when necessary—with a walled garden out back for some nice fresh air, and obviously the commute wouldn’t have been a problem now that he was working from home.

Yes, he definitely would’ve gone there if he’d known. But he hadn’t known, which was why he was currently squashed at one end of the couch while Bianca and Guglielmo were making out at the other. Francesco had managed to snag the one armchair tonight, lucky bastard, and he was wearing a smug expression about Lorenzo’s misfortune.

Lorenzo sighed and turned the volume up on the TV. He’d learned from experience that asking Bianca and Guglielmo to take it into the privacy of their bedroom just meant they’d end up having sex, and listening to that through the thin walls was _so_ much worse than this.

Lorenzo decided to power through the next ten minutes just to finish the episode they were watching, then excuse himself to his room for the rest of the night. He’d always been a people person who generally liked being around others, but even he had his limits. Plus, he liked being around a _variety_ of people: by now he was sick of his roommates but missed all his other friends and family terribly.

What he wouldn’t give for a family dinner at Lucrezia’s, or a coffee with Sandro, or a night out with Giuliano. Hell, Lorenzo even missed those meetings with his bank managers when they made him feel like a financially-incompetent idiot. It just wasn’t the same when they did it over Zoom. Not to mention that Francesco always sounded _so_ financially competent in his own Zoom meetings on the other side of his bedroom wall, and Lorenzo lived in constant fear of Francesco overhearing _his_ meetings and thinking he was an idiot who still didn’t really understand how the stock market worked.

(He was. But he didn’t want the president of the Pazzi bank to know that.)

Financial competency aside, Lorenzo couldn’t imagine how much worse this cramped living situation must’ve been for Francesco, who was quite introverted, as far as Lorenzo could tell. Francesco spent most of each day shut up in his room, and when Bianca and Guglielmo did force him to come out and socialize, he would barely deign to say two words to any of them. Actually, maybe lockdown _was_ better for Francesco than Lorenzo since he seemed to hate being around other people so much.

Lorenzo glanced over and saw that Francesco had his phone out and wasn’t paying any attention to the show. “Who’re you texting?” Lorenzo asked just to distract himself from all the kissing noises coming from his other side.

“My boyfriend,” Francesco said without looking up.

“He’s still in Rome, right?” Following Jacopo Pazzi’s recent death, Francesco had had to come up suddenly from Rome to take over the main branch of the Pazzi bank and had been caught in a similar situation as Lorenzo, intending to stay at his brother’s place only for a couple weeks while he house-hunted. (In his more generous moments, Lorenzo acknowledged that Bianca and Guglielmo must be way more inconvenienced by his and Francesco’s presence than vice versa.)

“Yeah,” Francesco said.

“It must be hard having to be apart from him for so long,” Lorenzo said.

“Mm.”

“Is he going to move up here with you once lockdown’s over?”

“Not sure, he might like his job in Rome more than he likes me.” There was some bitterness in his tone—this wasn’t the first time Lorenzo had gotten the impression that Francesco’s relationship was on the rocks. But before he could ask more about it, Francesco was getting to his feet and saying, “Excuse me, he wants to Facetime.”

“Ah, I see,” Lorenzo said with a smirk. “I’ll make sure to have my headphones in for a while.”

Francesco blushed and scowled at him. “Not _that_ kind of Facetiming, he just wants to talk to me about something.”

“Uh-huh. Talk.”

“Fuck off.”

Francesco went into his bedroom and shut the door. Now that he was alone with Bianca and Guglielmo, Lorenzo wasn’t strong enough even to make it through the last ten minutes of the episode, so he got up too and went into his own room. It was fortunate that Bianca and Guglielmo had two spare bedrooms, otherwise Francesco _really_ never would’ve gotten any privacy with his boyfriend. Also, he probably would’ve killed Lorenzo by now.

After Lorenzo had been peacefully reading a book for a few minutes (with his headphones nearby in preparation), noises of a very different sort started coming from Francesco’s room. It sounded like they were having a fight; Lorenzo heard Francesco’s raised, angry voice, though most of his actual words were too muffled for Lorenzo to make out.

This went on for several minutes, and then Lorenzo heard a _thump,_ as if Francesco had thrown his phone across the room, followed by silence. Frowning, Lorenzo opened his door and stepped out into the hallway, then hesitated. Francesco’s relationship problems were none of his business, they barely knew each other these days. A couple weeks ago was the first time they’d even spoken since age ten and Francesco didn’t seem at all interested in befriending Lorenzo.

On the other hand, Lorenzo was genuinely concerned and just wanted to ask if everything was okay. That was an acceptable thing for a roommate to do, right? And Bianca and Guglielmo clearly weren’t going to; they’d apparently moved things to the bedroom by now, which meant Lorenzo only had a very small amount of time to check on Francesco before he’d need to be back by his headphones.

So he took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “What?” Francesco snapped.

“Um, it’s Lorenzo, I just—I heard you yelling, so I wanted to see if you were okay,” Lorenzo said.

Silence. That was hardly an invitation to enter, but it also wasn’t a request to be left alone. Francesco was “emotionally constipated,” according to Guglielmo, so maybe this was his way of saying that he did want to be checked on? Silence rather than outright rejection?

Lorenzo took the gamble and gently pushed the door open, then stepped inside and shut it again behind him. Francesco was sprawled on his bed, though he sat up at Lorenzo’s entrance. “What are you doing?” he said in a would-be sharp tone which was undermined by a slight wobble.

And by the tears staining his cheeks, Lorenzo noticed in concern. “I wanted to check on you,” he repeated. “Is that all right?”

Francesco shrugged and looked away. Lorenzo took a few more steps forward. “What happened?” he asked. “Did you and your boyfriend have a fight?”

He expected to be told to mind his own business, but to his surprise, Francesco actually answered. “He cheated on me, the bastard,” he said flatly.

“Seriously?” Lorenzo said in disbelief. “How? We’re in lockdown!”

“It was before, but he didn’t bother telling me until now. Before lockdown but after I’d already come up to Florence,” Francesco said. “He was trying to use that as an excuse, the fact that I was so far away and he was lonely or some shit.”

“Oh. That really, really sucks, Francesco,” Lorenzo said, his heart aching. “I’m so sorry. What an asshole.”

One corner of Francesco’s mouth lifted up in an attempt at a smile of thanks, and Lorenzo tentatively perched on the bed beside him. “Are you going to break up with him?” he said.

“I don’t know. Probably,” Francesco said. “He was all tearful and apologetic and claiming he wants to make it up to me. Bastard. He insisted we not make any big decisions until we can see each other in person for a proper conversation, but I already know that I sure as hell am never going to forgive him.”

There was a hard edge of anger to his voice now. “And you have every right not to,” Lorenzo said. “You deserve so much better.”

They were quiet for a minute. Lorenzo wasn’t sure if Francesco wanted him to stay or go. “So, do you…want to talk or anything?” he said.

“Fuck _talking_. I just wish I could get back at him,” Francesco said, still in that hard voice.

“Get back at him? What, you mean like cheat on him back?”

“He deserves to know how it feels. God, I wish we weren’t in lockdown,” Francesco said bitterly. “I would be out there right now having revenge sex with someone hotter than him, but instead I’m stuck in here with my brother, his girlfriend, and…and you.”

Lorenzo’s heart skipped a beat. He suddenly realized that they were sitting very close together, their legs almost touching. And sitting alone together in Francesco’s room, on his _bed,_ no less. Lorenzo swallowed.

A flush was crawling up Francesco’s neck. “Um, and you’re straight,” he added quickly. “So obviously that’s not an op—”

He cut off with a muffled gasp when Lorenzo leaned in and kissed him. Hard. Lorenzo had no idea what had come over him, because he _was_ straight…right? But Francesco was absurdly gorgeous, that was simply an objective fact, and now he was kissing Lorenzo back and Lorenzo could have melted at how _good_ it felt, Francesco’s firm yet soft lips against his and his hands on his hips, pulling him closer so that his hard torso was pressed against Lorenzo.

They broke apart after a long minute, both breathless. “What—what the fuck are we doing?” Francesco said.

“Getting back at your boyfriend,” Lorenzo said, taking the hem of Francesco’s T-shirt between his finger and thumb. “As long as I meet the ‘hotter than him’ standard?”

“Obviously you do.” Francesco thought he was hot? Why was that making Lorenzo blush? “But you’re straight,” Francesco reminded him.

“It’s just revenge sex, it doesn’t mean anything,” Lorenzo said. “Besides, I haven’t gotten laid in weeks and God knows how long it’ll be before I can leave this apartment, so I’ll take anything I can get at this point.”

Francesco laughed, actually _laughed,_ and God, he had such a beautiful laugh, Lorenzo could listen to it all day. “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay with it…”

“I am,” Lorenzo said. “But I’ve only ever been with women, so don’t expect anything _too_ fantastic from me.”

“Don’t worry, my expectations are rock bottom.”

Lorenzo huffed indignantly, and Francesco snickered and kissed him again, moving to lie back on the bed and pulling Lorenzo on top of him.

* * *

“So,” Lorenzo said once he’d caught his breath. “Revenge successful.”

“Yep,” Francesco agreed.

Painfully awkward silence descended as the fog of sex faded and they both started to wonder, _What the hell did we just do?_ Or at least, that’s what Lorenzo was wondering. “Well, I guess I’ll head to bed, I’m tired,” Lorenzo mumbled. He got to his feet and quickly put his clothes back on, then left the room without daring to look at Francesco once the whole time.

Once in the safety of his own room, Lorenzo flopped onto his bed with a sigh. There were so many thoughts and emotions swirling around inside his head, he didn’t even know where to start. He tried to organize them into some semblance of a list.

One: He’d just had sex with Francesco Pazzi.

Two: It was one-time revenge sex that didn’t mean anything.

Three: Lorenzo was quarantined in his sister’s apartment, so the fact that he’d slept with a man also didn’t mean anything because Francesco was _literally_ his only option right now. If there was a mouth that was willing to get him off, Lorenzo wasn’t going to complain, no matter who it was attached to.

Four: He _had_ enjoyed it quite a lot, though. And had also enjoyed getting Francesco off, which shouldn’t have been the case according to the logic of point number three. Lorenzo being willing to accept a blowjob from any source in desperate times, sure. But being willing to give another man a blowjob, and _liking_ it? That definitely wasn’t very straight of him.

Lorenzo rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow with another sigh. Could he be bisexual? He’d never considered it before; he liked women so much that he’d just assumed he was straight and it had never occurred to him to wonder otherwise. Sure, he’d found himself appreciating the attractiveness of various men plenty of times over the years, but all straight men did that.

Not all straight men had sex with other men and liked it, though.

But Lorenzo was twenty-five years old. If he was _really_ bi, he would’ve known it by now, he decided. They were in the middle of a nationwide lockdown during a global pandemic and it was by far the most bizarre time of his entire life right now, _and_ Lorenzo was still fairly fresh out of a long-term relationship, so no wonder he was having weird thoughts about Francesco. He was just in a weird state of mind generally.

That analysis of the situation soothed him, but did nothing to stop Francesco from running through his dreams all night.

* * *

Francesco had done a lot of stupid things in his life, but sleeping with his brother’s girlfriend’s straight brother (who was also his childhood best friend, and now the president of his bank’s biggest rival) with whom he was quarantined in a small apartment to get revenge on his cheating boyfriend was unquestionably the stupidest.

Granted, the revenge portion of it _had_ been a total success. Francesco had had a fantastic time rubbing it in his now-ex’s face that he’d fucked an inhumanly gorgeous guy _because you’re so far away and I’m lonely,_ then officially breaking up with him and blocking his number. Extremely satisfying.

But the resolution of one problem had only resulted in a dozen more problems. It was like a damn Hydra over here.

Problem one: Francesco couldn’t stop thinking about Lorenzo and really wanted to sleep with him again.

Problem two: Lorenzo was straight and therefore would not want to sleep with Francesco again.

Problem three: They shared a small living space and had no way to avoid each other.

Problem four: Their siblings had noticed the weird vibe between them and kept asking if they were in a fight.

Problem five: This only made the vibe even weirder.

Problem six: Bianca and Guglielmo were going to inevitably find out what had happened, and then they’d make fun of Francesco, and then they’d tell Giuliano de’ Medici who would make fun of him even more badly and/or kill him.

Problem seven: Francesco was so distracted by the mess with Lorenzo that he couldn’t focus on work, but he _needed_ to focus because the pandemic had sent the bank into crisis.

Problem eight: Lorenzo was probably going to take advantage of his distraction by pulling some dastardly maneuver at the Medici bank that would make things even worse for the Pazzi bank.

And then it just kind of spiraled on from there until Francesco had managed to connect every current point of stress in his life back to his having slept with Lorenzo.

His only comfort was that it had been Lorenzo’s stupid idea and therefore was mostly his fault. Francesco had just gone along with it. He didn’t know _why_ he’d gone along with it, though, he should’ve known better. But in the immediate aftermath of finding out he’d been cheated on, Lorenzo sitting there and kissing him and wanting to sleep with him…it had felt _nice._ It had felt nice to be wanted, especially by someone as beautiful and kind and all-around perfect as Lorenzo. A good ego-boost after all his self-esteem had been crushed into smithereens.

But every time he got onto this train of thought, Francesco would sternly remind himself that Lorenzo had only wanted him because they were quarantined and he was desperate. He didn’t even like men at all, let alone Francesco.

Not that Francesco liked Lorenzo either, of course. He was good in bed (surprisingly so, considering he’d never been with a man before), but that was all.

Francesco was brooding about all this several days after The Incident when Guglielmo had dragged him out to the living room to spend time with everyone, as if they didn’t all spend _more_ than enough time with each other as it was. Couldn’t Francesco just be left in peace in his room? He hated sitting out here with Lorenzo and doing his best neither to make eye contact with him nor to think about what he looked like naked. Both difficult feats, seeing as naked Lorenzo was very hard to forget, and also current fully-clothed Lorenzo was staring at him intently, like he was _trying_ to catch his eye.

Francesco knew if he explained the situation with Lorenzo to his brother, Guglielmo would take pity on him and stop forcing them to hang out, but Francesco would literally rather die than confide something that embarrassing to anyone, even Guglielmo. He had every intention of taking it to his grave and never speaking of it again.

Unfortunately, Lorenzo did not feel the same way. “So, about the other night,” he said once Bianca and Guglielmo had gone to bed.

Francesco was already halfway to his own room and considered bolting the rest of the way there, but he didn’t want to look like he actually _cared_ about what had happened the other night. So he turned back to Lorenzo and said, as bored-sounding as he could, “What about it? It didn’t mean anything.”

“Right, of course,” Lorenzo said quickly. “I just thought…maybe we could do it again?”

Now _that_ threw Francesco for a loop. He stared at Lorenzo, dumbfounded. “You want to do it again?” he repeated. “I already told my ex about it and dumped his ass, I don’t need any more revenge sex.”

“You did dump him? That’s good, good for you,” Lorenzo said. Did he look happy about this? Why would he care about Francesco’s relationship status? “But I was thinking more along the lines of, like, stress relief.”

“Stress relief?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know I’m always really stressed out what with everything that’s going on, and worrying about my mom getting sick, and trying to run an entire bank from home,” Lorenzo said.

“Your mom lives by herself in a massive palazzo, I think she’ll be able to successfully avoid coming into contact with other people,” Francesco pointed out, but more gently than he usually spoke to Lorenzo. For the first time in his life, he suddenly felt weirdly relieved he didn’t have any parents or older relatives. One less thing to be worrying about right now.

“I know, but she still has to go to the grocery store and stuff, and I worry,” Lorenzo said. “But we’re getting off topic. The point is, my stress levels are through the roof these days, and I bet yours are too, and the other night did a lot to help me relieve stress. So, I thought maybe we could do it again.”

Francesco sized him up. Was this a prank? Some elaborate way to humiliate him? But humiliating pranks weren’t really Lorenzo’s style—Giuliano’s for sure, but not Lorenzo’s—and he _did_ look perfectly sincere. “I thought you were straight,” Francesco said.

“I am,” Lorenzo said quickly. Too quickly? “But like I said the other night, beggars can’t be choosers right now.”

“Wow, I’m glad that sleeping with me is absolutely scraping the barrel for you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Lorenzo said, looking flustered. Francesco had never seen him flustered before in all the years he’d known him. “I just meant, yes, I’m straight, but I did enjoy myself the other night, and I don’t mind making an exception under the circumstances.”

Francesco was still suspicious that Lorenzo had an ulterior motive, or at the very least that this was all a hallucination. But on the other hand, there was an insanely hot guy standing right there asking to have sex with him, and not even Francesco hated himself enough to refuse an offer like that.

So he shrugged and said, “Fine, if you’re sure you want to.”

Lorenzo was sure. _Very_ sure, as it turned out. It was even better than the first time; Francesco remembered that Lorenzo had always been an infuriatingly quick and eager learner when they were in school, but right now that particular trait of his was much less infuriating.

By the time it was over, Francesco was already certain that he didn’t want this to be the last time. “Um…” he said. “We could keep doing this if you wanted. Like, an ongoing thing, just until the lockdown lifts.”

Lorenzo rolled over to face him. “You want to?”

“Sure. For stress relief.”

Lorenzo smiled at him, his eyes crinkling and lighting up, and as Francesco looked at him, he was suddenly clobbered over the head by the realization that for him, this was not at _all_ about stress relief.

_Fuck._

Why was he so fucking predictable? A pair of pretty eyes and a nice smile and a few kind words, and he was gone. Done for. Already mentally planning the wedding. Which was even more alarming when considering the fact that Francesco despised weddings.

Francesco knew then that he was in big trouble and ought to stop this before he got hurt, but he’d already made the offer and couldn’t take it back. And besides, Lorenzo was straight and only interested in him because they were quarantined and he had no other options, so even though Francesco would be a fool to continue sleeping with the straight man he suddenly had a giant crush on, he would be just as much of a fool _not_ to do that. To let Lorenzo slip away without making the most of this one opportunity to have him, just for a little while.

“Sure, I’m down with that,” Lorenzo was saying in the middle of Francesco’s existential crisis. “But we should probably do our best to keep Bianca and Guglielmo from finding out because they’d just make a big thing about it and make everything weird.”

Francesco cleared his throat, trying not to let any of his sudden feelings show on his face. “Yeah, good call,” he said. His tone came out _pretty_ neutral, he thought. “We’ll be subtle about it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lorenzo said. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” Francesco whispered, his heart thumping painfully as he watched Lorenzo get dressed and walk out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Francesco alone again. Alone, always alone. He wanted Lorenzo to stay, wanted to fall asleep next to him, wanted to wake up in his arms tomorrow morning.

Problem number one million, approximately: Francesco had finally gotten out of a relationship with someone who’d hurt him only to immediately fall head over heels for someone who was going to hurt him way more.

* * *

Lorenzo was doing his best not to let it show, but he was having an existential crisis. He couldn’t deny that he and heterosexuality had parted ways the moment he’d first offered to sleep with Francesco, and now that he’d been sleeping with Francesco for three entire weeks and loving it, he and heterosexuality were no longer even on the same planet.

He wasn’t sure this was just stress relief for him anymore. He found himself looking forward to sex with Francesco because of the Francesco part, not because of the sex part (well, not _only_ because of the sex part). And he was pretty ready to admit by now that while he liked sex with Francesco for different reasons than he liked sex with women, he didn’t like it for _fewer_ reasons. Which was to say, it was just as enjoyable for Lorenzo despite being such a different and initially unfamiliar experience.

Even more crisis-inducing, he kept daydreaming about being _soft_ with Francesco. Romantic and completely non-sexual stuff, like taking him on dates or snuggling with him or staying up all night talking or strolling through the park holding his hand.

Maybe Lorenzo was just so stir-crazy that it was the thought of strolling through the park that made him swoon, not the hand-holding aspect.

Regardless, Lorenzo was seriously losing it, and it got to the point where he decided he needed advice. All of the people he lived with were obviously out of the question—the last thing he needed was Bianca and Guglielmo getting involved in this, not to mention they were both straight as rulers and would be no help, and he wasn’t exactly about to hit Francesco with a _hey, I might be having a bi panic over you, thoughts?_

So instead he pondered all the other people he would normally confide in. He didn’t relish the thought of chatting with his mother about his sex life. Giuliano would be useless; he’d just complain about how much he hated Francesco and would make fun of Lorenzo for sleeping with him. Sandro would also be useless because he couldn’t care less about sex and dating and got annoyed whenever Lorenzo and Giuliano tried to talk to him too much about it.

Then the obvious solution struck him: Lucrezia Donati. Not only did she love talking about sex and dating, she provided genuinely good advice _and_ was bisexual herself. She would be the perfect person to talk to.

So one day when Francesco was safely out getting groceries, Lorenzo told Bianca and Guglielmo he was on a Very Important work call and didn’t want to be disturbed, and he shut himself up in his bedroom to call Lucrezia.

“I’m so glad you called, I’m about to die of boredom,” she said when she picked up. “Please tell me you can talk to me for the next six hours.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, I do have some work to do,” Lorenzo said. “But what I’m calling about should hopefully be interesting enough to brighten your day. I need your professional bisexual opinion about something.”

“My professional bisexual opinion? This _does_ sound interesting.”

Lorenzo lowered his voice a little to make absolutely sure Bianca and Guglielmo couldn’t eavesdrop. “Okay, so, if I’ve been sleeping with a man for the past three weeks, would that make me bi too? Or am I still straight and he’s just an exception?”

Silence on the other end. “Are you _serious?”_ Lucrezia said finally. “You’ve been sleeping with a man for three weeks and still think you could be straight?!”

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking!”

“Lorenzo! Straight men don’t want to sleep with other men even one time, let alone constantly for three weeks! How the fuck did you even find a man to sleep with during lockdown in the first place? I always knew you were a hoe, but these are some next level hoe skills. I’m impressed.”

“Look, okay, I haven’t given you a full picture of the situation,” Lorenzo said, and he proceeded to do so. “So, am I actually into men or is it just quarantine horniness combined with post-breakup horniness?”

“All right, I guess I can see a little more why you might feel like this is just a fluke brought on by an extremely weird set of circumstances,” Lucrezia conceded. “So answer me honestly now. Do you enjoy having sex with Francesco?”

“Obviously,” Lorenzo said.

“Do you enjoy getting him off, and not just having him get _you_ off?”

“Yes.”

“Does the fact that he’s a man weird you out in any way while you’re having sex with him?”

“No.”

“So seeing him naked doesn’t turn you off?”

“No.”

“Does it turn you on?”

“Of course it does! That’s how sex works!”

“Not if you were straight, it wouldn’t,” Lucrezia said triumphantly. “One more question. Would you still want to keep sleeping with him even once lockdown’s over and you have other options? Or maybe even have a proper relationship with him?”

Lorenzo was quiet for a moment as he considered it. He thought about Francesco’s body pressed against his, his fingers tangling in his hair or digging into his back, the sight of him flushed and breathless and begging for more, the way he looked at Lorenzo like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He thought about how Francesco’s touch made him burn, how Lorenzo could get lost in kissing him for days if Francesco would let him. How Lorenzo liked kissing him because he just _liked_ it, not only because it was a lead-up to sex.

He thought about the way his stomach squirmed whenever he was able to coax a genuine smile or laugh out of Francesco. He thought about all the times, more and more often recently, when he’d wished Francesco would let him cuddle with him after sex. How much Lorenzo yearned to just hold him close, to feel his warm body snuggled in his arms and his heart beating against his chest. To spend the whole night with him and wake up with him the next morning and make him coffee and give him a kiss on the cheek and sit companionably with him as they worked from home together wearing each other’s T-shirts, Lorenzo’s a little too big for Francesco and Francesco’s a little too small for him. Not that he’d thought about this scenario too specifically or anything.

And for the first time Lorenzo asked himself, _really_ asked himself, was he ready to give all that up once lockdown ended?

“I don’t want to stop,” he realized. “I want to keep being with him even after.”

“Well, there you have it,” Lucrezia said. “Call yourself whatever label you want, or don’t use one at all if you’d rather, but you clearly are genuinely attracted to Francesco and feel something for him. It’s not just quarantine horniness.”

Lorenzo let out a breath and leaned back against his pillow. “I think I really, really like him,” he whispered. “Like, ‘I want him to be my boyfriend’ kind of liking.”

“Oh, shit, this _is_ serious, then,” Lucrezia said. “But didn’t you _just_ get out of a long-term relationship?”

“About two months ago now, but it wasn’t a sudden or unexpected breakup at all,” Lorenzo said. “Things had been fizzling out between us for at _least_ six months before we finally had the guts to call it quits. Things had never been that spicy in the first place, we mostly just started dating because our parents wanted us to.”

Lucrezia snorted. “Spicy?”

“I don’t know, I was trying to think of the opposite of fizzled out,” Lorenzo said. “The point is, it wasn’t really _painful,_ as far as breakups go. It was more like letting go of something that we were both ready to move on from. So I do feel like I’m emotionally ready to start dating again. I mean, out of respect for Clarice I’d probably wait a few more months before flaunting a new relationship—not that Francesco would even want a relationship with me anyway—and fuck, no one but you even has any idea I’m probably not straight—”

“I’m guessing _Francesco_ has an idea by this point.”

“But my family and all my friends, I’ll have to tell them,” Lorenzo said. “And I don’t even know what _to_ tell them. What am I?”

“Like I said, that’s up to you to decide,” Lucrezia said. “Read up on all the labels and see if there’s one that speaks to you. Me, I like ‘bi’ because it’s simple and very commonly used. Everybody knows what it means, so I don’t have to waste my time explaining it every time I come out to someone.”

“That makes sense,” Lorenzo said. “But I don’t know if I’ve ever been or will ever be attracted to another man besides Francesco. What if he really is my one exception? And if I was actually bi, wouldn’t I have known it by now?”

“Hmm, you’re right. If you were really bi, you would’ve gotten your official membership card in the mail years ago.”

“Come on, you get the point I was trying to make.”

“And _you_ get the point _I_ was trying to make,” Lucrezia replied. “There’s nothing wrong with changing your mind about your sexuality in your twenties or older. Not everybody has it all figured out at age twelve. And you can still call yourself bi, or whatever else, if you only have one ‘exception.’ But for the record, I will tell you that I specifically remember thinking you did _not_ hate it as much as I’d expected that time I made you watch _Magic Mike_ with me back when we were dating.”

“It’s a good movie!” Lorenzo said defensively.

“Yes, and you were just as riveted by all the male strippers as I was. So I wouldn’t be so sure about Francesco being the _only_ man you’ve ever found even a _little_ attractive.”

“Back when we were dating…but that was _years_ ago. Are you saying you knew I was probably bi for _years_ and never bothered telling me?!” Lorenzo demanded.

Lucrezia just laughed. “As much as I’m enjoying this, I can’t talk you through your _entire_ sexuality crisis,” she said. “You probably have some thinking to do.”

“Yeah,” Lorenzo said. “Thanks for all your help. Would you mind if I text you random questions freaking out over the next few days?”

“Not at all.”

Lorenzo spent the rest of the day researching various sexual orientations and labels as Lucrezia had advised, trying to see what felt like it fit him. And reflecting on his life experiences and realizing in surprise that there were actually a _lot_ of instances of him finding men hot, but just brushing it off as an aesthetic appreciation of beauty rather than genuine attraction.

“Hey, Guglielmo,” he said at one point after Francesco had returned but was busy on a Zoom call. “Have you ever checked out shirtless guys at the beach?” Granted, he wasn’t sure Guglielmo was the best example of a heterosexual man since he was basically just Bianca-sexual. (Seriously, they were those weirdos who decided at age five that they were going to get married and then actually did. Well, they weren’t married yet, but it was only a matter of time.)

Guglielmo blinked at him. “What? No,” he said. “Why?”

“Would you ever do it? What if the guy was, like, a model?” Lorenzo said. “What if there was a shirtless male model at the beach, would you check him out?”

 _“I_ would,” Bianca said.

“No, I don’t think so. Why?” Guglielmo asked again.

“Hmm,” Lorenzo said thoughtfully. “Interesting.” And he wandered back into his room, leaving a bewildered Guglielmo and an amused Bianca out on the couch.

Lorenzo liked to think he was pretty woke and kept up with the terminology, but even so there were so many labels that he’d never heard of or didn’t understand what they really meant, even after doing research and reading multiple definitions. That was why he kept gravitating back to bi. It was simple and commonly used, like Lucrezia had said. It had been his gut reaction when he first noticed how he felt about Francesco, the first word that had popped into his head.

It felt comfortable to him. It felt right.

(Also, the flag was really pretty.)

So about a week later, he texted Lucrezia. _I think bi is the right label for me._

 _Nice,_ she replied. _I’ll tell the council of bi elders to mail you your membership card._

* * *

Now that Lorenzo had sorted out how he _felt,_ he had to turn his attention to what he was going to _do._ He was starting to feel settled in the idea of being bi, and he definitely wanted to talk to his family about it, but right now wasn’t exactly the best time. He’d rather tell them in person, not over Facetime with Guglielmo and Francesco and all Giuliano’s roommates eavesdropping.

He could talk to Bianca, though, since she lived with him. That felt like a good first step. As long as he could get her alone without Guglielmo and Francesco eavesdropping. He didn’t mind Guglielmo knowing, but he’d just prefer to talk to Bianca privately first.

As for Francesco, that was where Lorenzo got _really_ stuck. Should he tell him? Should he tell him that he was bi and that for him, what they were doing was so much more than just stress relief? Should Lorenzo tell him he had feelings for him? Or would that make Francesco mad?

Honestly, Lorenzo was leaning towards yes, it would make him mad. Francesco had never done a thing to indicate he was interested in Lorenzo in any way except physically. Lorenzo was pretty confident that this was just meaningless sex for Francesco. Therefore, he’d be horrified if Lorenzo confessed that he had feelings for him. Especially since he’d just gotten cheated on a month ago, there was no way he’d be ready for another relationship already. His breakup hadn’t been nearly as amicable or as expected as Lorenzo’s.

No, Lorenzo decided, he wasn’t going to tell Francesco the truth. Or at the very least, if he did ever tell him, he’d wait until lockdown was over. That way if it blew up in his face and made Francesco hate him, they could quickly have space from each other and never have to speak again. The prospect of upsetting the delicate ecosystem of their apartment right now was unthinkable.

But Bianca, at least, could be told soon. So the following weekend while Francesco was working (it was a Sunday, but Francesco was always working), Lorenzo brought Bianca into her bedroom and kicked Guglielmo out, saying they were having a private sibling chat.

“What about?” Bianca said.

Lorenzo took a deep breath. No point beating around the bush. “I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual,” he said.

Bianca didn’t even bat an eye. “No shit, you’ve been banging Francesco every other night for a month.”

“You—what?” Lorenzo spluttered, feeling himself turn bright red. “How did you know that? We only, um, do it once you guys are asleep, and we’re really quiet and—”

“I’m a light sleeper, and you’re nowhere _near_ as quiet as you think,” Bianca informed him, making his blush deepen. “It’s been hell.”

“Yeah, well, how do you think we feel about you two doing it all the time?” Lorenzo muttered. “Wait, does Guglielmo know too?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why didn’t either of you ever say anything to us?”

“We figured it was none of our business and you’d tell us if you wanted us to know.”

“That’s surprisingly mature of you,” Lorenzo said.

Bianca scoffed. “‘Surprisingly’? We’re the most mature ones of all our siblings.” Well, with the competition being himself, Giuliano, and Francesco, Lorenzo felt like that was a pretty low bar.

“Anyway,” he said, “you’re the first person I’ve told, except Lucrezia Donati, so it would be cool if you didn’t mention it to anyone else for now. I’m going to tell Mom and Giuliano soon, but probably not until we can talk in person.”

“Okay,” Bianca said. “But what do you mean I’m the first person you’ve told? What about Francesco? He must know, obviously.”

“That I’m bi? No, he doesn’t,” Lorenzo said. “I haven’t told him, and I don’t think I will. At least not until lockdown’s over.”

Bianca raised her eyebrows. “Lorenzo. You’ve been happily having sex with him for a month. I think he probably has an inkling that you’re not straight.”

“I know, but I’ve been justifying it by telling him I’m just horny and he’s my only option—”

“Wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

“—whereas if I admit to him that he made me realize I’m bi, that’s as good as admitting that this is more than just convenient sex for me,” Lorenzo continued. “And he’ll kill me if he realizes I have actual feelings for him, that was never part of the deal when we established this arrangement.”

Before Bianca could respond, the door opened and Guglielmo poked his head in. “Oh my God, you have actual feelings for Francesco?” he said, looking thrilled.

He’d whispered it, but Lorenzo still frantically shushed him. “What the hell, I told you no eavesdropping!”

“I’m sorry, I was just walking past the door on my way to the kitchen and I heard you say that,” Guglielmo said. “It’s impossible _not_ to eavesdrop in this apartment.”

Then there was another door opening, footsteps, and Francesco’s voice saying, “Lorenzo has actual feelings for me?”

Shit.

* * *

Francesco’s heart was pounding as he watched Lorenzo groan and put his head in his hands. “This is _the worst_ living situation I have _ever_ been involved in,” Lorenzo said. “I hate it. I hate _you._ All three of you.”

“Excuse me, _I_ have done nothing wrong,” Bianca protested.

“When this is over, I’m going to buy a massive ten-bedroom palazzo just for myself and none of you will ever be invited to visit—”

“Lorenzo?” Francesco cut him off. “Is it true?” It couldn’t possibly be, he thought. Lorenzo couldn’t possibly have actual feelings for him. Francesco had spent a month now pining after him, falling for him more and more with every kiss, every touch, every word, and there was no way that Lorenzo was ever going to reciprocate that.

Francesco didn’t get happy endings. He never had. They were for other people, not for him.

But…he _had_ thought Lorenzo had been looking at him differently lately. More tenderly. He’d noticed him touching him more than strictly necessary, playing with his hair as they caught their breath after sex, brushing his hand against Francesco’s shoulder when he walked past him sitting at the table. Letting their legs touch when they were squished together on the couch, and on one occasion, Francesco was pretty sure Lorenzo had actually leaned closer into his side, on _purpose._

Could it really be true? Could Lorenzo really return his feelings?

At last, Lorenzo slowly lifted his head up and met Francesco’s eyes, and Francesco saw everything. The embarrassment, the anxiety, the hope.

Lorenzo _did_ return his feelings.

“Um…yeah. It’s true,” Lorenzo said in a small voice, and Francesco let out a shaky breath, joy welling up inside him to replace his disbelief. “I realized I’m not straight after all—”

“Oh, you don’t say,” Francesco said sarcastically, but he was starting to smile, and it made Lorenzo smile too, made the embarrassment and anxiety clear out of his expression until only hope remained.

“Shut up, you’re interrupting my declaration of feelings,” Lorenzo said, and Francesco laughed, and now Lorenzo was smiling even wider. “I was _going_ to say that I realized I’m bi, and I also realized I have feelings for you. Like, real, emotional ones, not just sex feelings. Although I do also have those, as you know _very_ well.”

“Gross,” Bianca and Guglielmo said in unison, making Francesco remember their presence.

And Lorenzo too, apparently. “Hey, can you two get out of here, please?” he said, hopping off the bed to yank Bianca to her feet and tug her to the door. “We’re trying to have a moment.”

“This is _our_ room, go somewhere else for your moment,” Bianca said, but Francesco assisted Lorenzo by shoving Guglielmo out into the hall too and slamming the door in their faces.

“Assholes!” Bianca complained, her voice now muffled.

“Go away,” Francesco said, and he waited until he’d heard their footsteps moving down the hall before turning back to Lorenzo. They were both smiling at each other like two idiots with no dignity, but Francesco couldn’t care less. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled this wide. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.

“Fuck,” Lorenzo said in awe.

“What?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t immediately realize I was bi the minute I laid eyes on you when you first came back to Florence,” he said. “I remember thinking you were one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen, _how_ did I not realize that was attraction rather than just an objective observation?”

Francesco smiled wider and ducked his head, blushing a little, still hardly able to believe that Lorenzo, beauty and perfection made flesh, actually found _him_ attractive. Him with his crooked teeth—that was why he never smiled like this, because Jacopo had been so fond of criticizing his teeth—and his weird sharp angles—a classmate had once told him he looked like a freaky vampire—and his scrawny, lanky frame—his cheating ex had said more than once that he was too skinny and should work out more (always hastening to insist he was just concerned about his health when the words made Francesco get all quiet and feel like he was shriveling up inside).

But Lorenzo didn’t mind any of that. Lorenzo thought he was beautiful.

Fortunately, Francesco still had enough dignity not to start sentimentally blubbering about all that, so instead he opted for the familiar territory of teasing Lorenzo. “I’m not surprised it took you so long to notice your own feelings. You _are_ pretty stupid a lot of the time,” he said fondly. “I heard that Zoom meeting when you said, and I could not make this up if I tried, ‘We’re a bank, how can there be no money?’”

“You’re the fucking _worst_ ,” Lorenzo said, but he was laughing. “Are you going to tell me how _you_ feel or just keep making fun of me?”

“Fine.” Francesco met his eyes again with a shy smile. “I also have real, emotional feelings for you in addition to sex feelings.”

Lorenzo beamed at him. “Really?” he said.

“Of course really,” Francesco replied. “I realized it after, like, the second time we fucked.”

“The second time?” Lorenzo said, looking stunned. “Who would’ve thought that _you_ would be more in tune with your feelings than I would?”

“Well, I was already confident in liking men, so I didn’t have as many mental blocks to overcome to get to the realization.”

“I guess that’s true,” Lorenzo said. “But still, I—”

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk way too much?” Francesco interrupted, and to make him shut up, he stepped forward and took his face in his hands and kissed him.

Lorenzo immediately relaxed into him, like he belonged here kissing Francesco. He slid his arms around Francesco’s waist and kissed him back, and Francesco’s heart was overflowing with happiness, with how _right_ it all felt.

“Yes,” Lorenzo said when they broke apart. “I have been told many times that I talk too much.”

Francesco laughed and kissed him again, he kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until they were interrupted by Bianca’s approaching voice saying, “All right, you’ve been in there way too long. If I come in and find you doing it in my bed, I will kill you both on sight.”

Francesco groaned in annoyance and forced himself to take a step away from Lorenzo. “I _seriously_ cannot wait until lockdown’s over,” Lorenzo said as Bianca burst in and ordered them out into the hall. “And when that time comes, would it be okay if—if I took you on a date?”

“Oh, I think I’d be all right with that,” Francesco said, still smiling. He wasn’t used to smiling this much all at once, his face muscles were starting to hurt. “But there’s no need to wait that long for our first date. We could do it tonight. Gelato and Netflix in my room with the door locked so our idiot siblings won’t barge in on us?”

“Hey!” Guglielmo said from the living room.

But they both ignored him. “That sounds like a perfect quarantine date,” Lorenzo said. “I’ll see you then. And also every second from now until then since there isn’t really anywhere else for either of us to go.”

Francesco shook his head at this ridiculous living situation they’d been thrust into. “If we both make it out of lockdown without killing each other and we _still_ want to go on a date, then I’d say that’s a pretty good sign that this relationship will be a success.”


End file.
